


You're the Universe I'm Helpless In

by wannabe9599



Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, I don't know what else to tag just please read it :(, M/M, This is basically a friends to lovers au, fan!woojin, slowburn-ish, theater actor!jihoon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-21 09:15:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18140282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wannabe9599/pseuds/wannabe9599
Summary: A love story between two boys. And a story of Jihoon getting another chance.





	1. August

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!!!!  
> \- I did not proofread this so it will most probably contain errors, sorry :(  
> \- The story is something I just decided to write about but it's probably inspired by a lot of other stories I've already read about/watched  
> \- Title is from a song called Venus  
> \- I'd very much appreciate comments/kudos! <3 Enjoy!

__

  
_“How-- please. Whoever’s listening-- Did I deserve this? Come on! Tell me!” He sees himself sobbing alone, a bottle of soju on one hand. It’s pouring rain and thunders are rumbling._  
  
  
_The view is almost serene. No other human in sight, just a vast ocean in front of him with the rain meeting the deep waters, but Jihoon feels far from calm. He’s shaky, drunk, and sloppy. He doesn’t know what’s going on, he’s angry. He screams to nothingness, “Tell me!”_  
  
  
_A voice finally answers him back. But he doesn’t hear him clearly. Like a staccato he couldn’t understand; a blurry vision._  


  
  
  


“Hey... hey! Babe.. babe, wake up.. Jihoon!” 

Jihoon opens his eyes and sees Woojin next to him on the bed looking worried sick, with both his hands gripping Jihoon’s arms. Jihoon feels a sense of relief wash over him as he finally sees his only lover; but it still isn’t enough to calm him down. He still feels scared and he cries without knowing exactly why. 

He hugs Woojin tight, burying his head on his chest and letting his tears wet Woojin’s shirt. He can’t help it. He feels his lungs tighten, like it’s hard for him to breathe. He allows Woojin to hover over him. 

“Hey, hey. Shh... It’s okay. You’re okay.” Woojin assures him. “It’s just a nightmare.. It’s just a nightmare..” Woojin repeats as he envelops Jihoon in his arms, rubbing lines in the back of the other’s neck. Doing whatever he could to soothe him. He shushes him as the boy sobs harder, unable to give an answer. Because, Jihoon -- Jihoon doesn’t want to think. He doesn’t want to remember whatever it was he dreamt of. 

All he wants is to _feel_ Woojin, hear his heartbeat, know he’s by his side.  
All Jihoon _knows_ is that he misses Woojin. 

He misses him so much he can’t help but fall helpless in his arms-- the only place he’s ever felt safe in. The only place he’s felt the happiest in. He finally breaks into a smile as Woojin kisses his forehead. And Jihoon feels like he had just found the answer to all his prayers in the form of his snaggletoothed lover. 

All of him _yearns_ for Woojin like he’s the oxygen he needs to breathe.  
Like nothing else mattered _but_ Woojin. 

And so he kisses the boy, with all he can. 

He closes the gap between their lips _hungrily_. He’s starving to get a taste of Woojin, like an addict getting a taste of his drug. He kisses him harder and harder until he moves on to sucking Woojin’s neck; and suddenly, all they both feel is heat. It’s hot and they’re hands are all over the place-- Jihoon’s ruffling Woojin’s hair while Woojin slides his all over the older’s back down to the curve of his ass, and finally to Jihoon’s thighs.

“Are we really doing this?” Woojin asks as Jihoon takes his shirt off.

“Stop talking and just kiss me, _please_.”

+++ 

  


_“I LOVE YOU, PARK JIHOON!!” Jihoon would hear from the stage just as he was to say his lines. This was the norm for him, by the way. It wasn’t anything new having heard the constant (and very distracting) screaming from the girls in the crowd. But even though he had girls lining up to see his plays and girls filling his locker with love letters (and whatever it is lovesick people send to their crushes), he would never consider himself popular. Yes, he’s got some admirers, he knew that, but popular people, to him, had more outgoing personalities, which was far from what theater actor Park Jihoon had._

_The thing is, Jihoon actually hates meeting new people— it makes his stomach churn and his hands sweat. Just the idea makes him anxious to his bones. He doesn’t exactly know why he hates making small talk, but guesses it’s just who he is. He hates having to think on the spot just to keep a conversation going, which is basically why he liked acting. It gave him a script to memorize and a whole scenario to act out. But don’t get him wrong though, he likes getting to know people, it’s just that he can be quite selective and exclusive in the process._

_Think of it this way, if he doesn’t like you at first, he probably will never like you. Ever._

_Well, that used to be the case._

_Up until he met Woojin, that is._

_‘The snaggletoothed charmander’ Jihoon used to address him in his head by. The only boy in a sea of women shouting his name. It was pretty weird at first. Jihoon didn’t exactly know how to address his guy fans (he didn’t even know he HAD guy fans), turns out he only had ONE guy fan. And Woojin— that was his name. It wasn’t hard to spot Woojin too — auburn hair, caramel skin, and a very distinct deep voice screaming, “NAE SARANG HOONIE!” in a harmony of high-pitched and synchronized ‘I love yous’ and ‘Marry mes’._

_You could definitely say Woojin knew how to get Jihoon’s attention._

_Their actual meeting didn’t happen in one Jihoon’s plays, however. It took place at a cafe about 100 meters from their university and through a common friend named Daehwi._

_“I just miss you, that’s all.” Daehwi had messaged Jihoon asking to meet up out of the blue. Jihoon wished he could say no, but Daehwi... Daehwi can get pretty persistent. And Jihoon doesn’t really have the energy to argue. So he complies, “Okay, see you!”_

_Turns out, Daehwi had a plus one._

_A familiar face greets Jihoon at the table. “Oh my god. Hi!!!” The boy says a little too excitedly holding onto his cup of coffee for dear life. Jihoon sends him a teethy smile before he takes a seat and looks over at Daehwi who’s seemingly enjoying the very show happening in front of his eyes._

_“I.. uh– Park Woojin.” The red head extends his shaking hand to Jihoon._

_“Jihoon.”_

_If the dictionary had pictures to describe words, their first meeting would probably be the perfect image to represent the word ‘awkward’. Because that’s how it was according to Jihoon— awkward. Just imagine, a whole hour of Woojin looking at Jihoon with googly eyes like he could melt him with his stares while the older talked. And a constant, “I got it!” from Woojin when Jihoon would try to stand up to get himself some water. It was tragic. Time couldn’t go any slower, Jihoon thought._

_But despite how everything went, what surprised Jihoon the most was that he found Woojin interesting. He can’t seem to pinpoint what it was about Daehwi’s tan-skinned friend that got him so intrigued. And as you can already probably tell, it’s not every day that Jihoon finds someone he would intentionally like to know more about, so meeting Woojin and having this sense of wonder about the boy interests him._

_It interests him so much he actually asks to see him again a week later._

_“Where’d you come up with that name even?” Jihoon asks as he takes a sip from his large slurpee that he thinks he might not be able to finish._

_Woojin seemingly lost looking for his charger inside his bag nonchalantly answers, “What name?”_

_“You know...that— that nae sa— nae sarang hoonie thingy!”_

_“Ah. That name... well, I wanted something only I could say. You know?” Jihoon hums in response, too busy looking at the moving purple slush in the cup in front of him._

_“You have a ton of fans, you know that right? And they all go ‘I love you oppa!’ and that just sounded too basic for me. I kinda wanted something that was exclusively... mine.” Woojin chuckles in embarrassment. “Something only I could call you with.”_

_From being his only guy fan, Woojin has leveled up to becoming Jihoon’s partner in crime; a very close confidante in just a matter of months. You could say Jihoon’s instinct was right about Woojin: he really was interesting, but more than that, he’s as Jihoon would say to others, “annoyingly dumb and funny but also very caring”._

_His perfect match._

__

_Ever since then, Jihoon always met Woojin after his plays. They were like two peas in a pod-- inseparable. Their usual routine became them eating at the nearby chicken place after every performance sitting in the corner of the room where Jihoon would always be seated at lime green couch while Woojin sat across him. “3 orders of Yangnyum chicken and 4 cups of rice, please!” Woojin would always be the one to order._

+++ 

  


“Hey, babe?” Woojin shouts from the living room of the apartment they moved in three years ago. It’s a lazy Sunday. Both of them have no work today and Woojin has never felt happier to have the time to spend with Jihoon. “Hm?” 

It’s already been two days since the night Jihoon woke up anxious and palpitating like crazy next to Woojin on their bed. He’s actually been trying to avoid any conversation about it, even though Jihoon can’t seem to get it - the dream - out of his head. “That nightmare.. that you had… do you wanna talk about it?”

“I don’t think there’s anything to talk about, really.” Jihoon tries to escape the question as he walks to meet Woojin on their couch. “It was just a bad dream, I guess?”

“You sure? You know you got me real worried then.” Woojin says as he opens his arms asking Jihoon for a hug. They both squeeze themselves in the sofa. “And then real hot right after.” He whispers as a joke giving Jihoon a cheeky smirk.

Jihoon rolls his eyes and pretends a smile isn’t creeping in from his lips. “Shut it.” Jihoon sighs and finally thinks about the dream as he nuzzles his head in Woojin’s neck.

Honestly, it didn’t feel like a dream. It felt too real to be a dream, he thinks. It felt like he was really there. In a boatless dock alongside a shore; it was a foggy evening. No other person can be seen but him. He remembers seeing himself alone, clothes drenched from the drops of rain pouring down his skin, crying, screaming, “Tell me!” to the loud thunders and lightning in the dark skies above him. “What was it that I wanted to know?”, he asks himself. And then, he remembers feeling desperate, broken, and empty. Like nothing made sense.

“Babe, a-are you crying?”

It’s Woojin’s voice that brings Jihoon back to reality. “Huh?” He answers as he touches the corner of his eyes only to be met with tears, actual tears. He as surprised as Woojin as he wipes the water running down his cheeks.

“Ah, I’m being so weird lately. I didn’t even notice I was crying!” He forces a smile.

“Wait here, let me just get you a napkin.” Woojin says almost immediately as he pulls away from Jihoon’s body.

“No. Don’t. It’s fine! It’s probably just dust that got caught in my eyes.” Jihoon blatantly lies. “Don’t-- Don’t go please. Let’s just stay here, like this. Please.” He almost begs, with a hint of desperation in his voice. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t want to let go. He’s just getting napkins, for god’s sake. But Jihoon can’t explain it. There’s a looming fear crawling in his skin that he can’t seem to brush away and he just _needs_ Woojin close.

“Okay, okay.. we can stay like this forever, if you’d like.” Woojin cups the older’s face.

As Jihoon looks into Woojin’s dark set of brown eyes, he realizes that he feels _that_ same feeling again - the same feeling from that night. That same feeling of missing Woojin even if he’s just there; of wanting Woojin to just stay close to him, of yearning for Woojin.

  


And then a scenario flashes inside his head.

  


It’s of them.

  


Of Jihoon waving Woojin goodbye.


	2. September

“I mean nothing bad happened. It just felt so real, you know?” Jihoon tells Daehwi as they make their way to their seats, a tray with two cups of coffees in the older’s hands. “It was just me and Woojin at the basement of our building and I was waving him goodbye as he was entering our car.” 

 

“Okay? So what does that mean exactly?” Daehwi raises an eyebrow.

 

“I don’t know. It’s just so weird, isn’t it? It hasn’t happened yet, but it feels like I’m watching reruns in my head. Like it’s already happened. And I’m just remembering.”

 

“That’s called Dejavu, hyung.”

 

“I’ve _had_ dejavu, okay? And this is definitely not one of those.” He takes a sip from his iced americano. “Even this recurring dream I keep getting seems so realistic. And then I wake up drenched in my own tears. And there’s this really weird feeling in my chest too, like I’m scared or something.” Jihoon expounds in a serious tone. He sighs heavily, “I just wish I could decode these weird dreams.”

 

“Maybe you just need a vacation, hyung. You have been rehearsing for your musical day and night…” The younger suggests, but Jihoon knows that just ain’t it. He’s been resting fairly enough and eating enough, but these strange daydreams still haunt him. 

 

“You’re right. That’s probably it.” Jihoon decides to drop the topic and Daehwi sends him a warm smile. Maybe if he just doesn’t think about them too much, they’d eventually leave him alone. Right. That’s a good idea. That’s exactly what he’ll do, he concludes.

  


+++

__  
Mornings were never Jihoon’s favorite. He was never a morning person, to be honest. He’s actually nocturnal. Awake at night playing video games and asleep in the morning avoiding anyone who enters his room. Most days, he’d be found sleeping in his bed until noon (he’d only wake up earlier than 3PM if there were rehearsals he had to attend). But that started to change when he met Woojin.

_“Wake up!!! We’re going jogging today!”Jihoon, with his eyes shut, murmurs a ‘no’. He doesn’t want to get out of his bed yet. He tries to cover his ears using his pillow, but Woojin’s quick to react. “Nope. Let’s go. The casting people said to lose a few pounds for the role, remember?”_

_Ah, Woojin’s right again, Jihoon thinks._

_The boy’s a real good influence on Jihoon, really. Sometimes he wonders if he is that to Woojin, too. But he thinks “maybe not”, because the older never brings Woojin coffee in the morning or bakes him his favorite cookies when he has the time or insists on carrying the younger’s bags when walking the hallway or does all the things Woojin does for Jihoon that the latter has never even thought of doing for his best friend._

_“When I said I wanted to lose weight, I meant go on a crash diet-- not wake up at 5AM to jog around campus!” Jihoon complains as he stretches alongside Woojin, who’s wearing black tights accentuating the fine lines in his glutes and calves Jihoon can’t seem to take his eyes off of._

_“That’s just going to fuck up your metabolism, Hoonie. We should do it the right way!” Woojin says eagerly. He’s always been the active one between them two anyways, so Jihoon just grunts in response._

_“Ah, I love jogging.”_

_“Of course you do.” Jihoon says sarcastically as they begin to run. Woojin flashes him with his winning smile, one that gave the other a full view of his lovely snaggletooth._

_“Yeah, but I love jogging even more now because I get to do it with you.”_

_There he goes again, Jihoon thinks. Speaking so carelessly, like he wants Jihoon to fall for him. But it’s always just that._

_Always just sentences and simple gestures, never an actual confession. At first, Jihoon thought it was because Woojin was his fan first before he became his friend. But it’s been a year since they’ve met. And Jihoon has got other ‘fans’ who’ve become friends— they’re mostly girls— but they never do what Woojin does to him._

_They don’t..._

  
  


_Get drunk and snuggle next to Jihoon, whispering sweet nothings to his ear like Woojin does._

_“I like being this close to you.”_

_Or play with Jihoon’s hands (only to never hold them) like Woojin does._

_“Even your fingers are cute.”_

_Or lean in so close you’d think he was to kiss you, but all he ever says is…_

_Nothing._

_Like Woojin does._

_It’s just confusing, Jihoon thinks as he shrugs off the other’s words. It’s confusing and annoying because It feels like he’s setting Jihoon up for something more but also feels like he’s setting him up for nothing. Because it’s always just that. Just teasing. He sighs heavily before running off and following Woojin as he pretends like he’s heard nothing from the fella._

_Three weeks into the same month though, it finally takes a toll on Jihoon. As much as he would like to say he hasn’t caught feelings for the boy, he just couldn’t deny it any longer._

_It happens when Jihoon sees Woojin seemingly having a good time with Hyeongseob, a boy who takes History with the caramel-skinned Busan boy and a guy Woojin usually mentions in their conversations. He sees them walking down the hallways laughing and Jihoon isn’t sure why there’s suddenly a burning desire in him to chop both Hyeongseob and Woojin’s heads off._

_“Park Woojin.” He starts off. “Don’t text me. Or come to my room. Or invite me to eat chicken. Or go to any of my plays. Or come anywhere near me starting today. Okay? I don’t want to see you anymore.” Jihoon spews in anger just as Woojin arrives to pick Jihoon up from rehearsals. He doesn’t know where he got the courage to say those lines from, but it came to Jihoon like vomit— he just couldn’t stop them from leaving his lips._

_A surprised look can be seen across Woojin’s face. He doesn’t know if he should take it as a joke, but he’s never really seen Jihoon this angry before, so he just goes, “Wait what?”_

_“I. Don’t. Want. To. Be. Friends. With. You. Anymore.” The older spells it out slowly, his arms crossed. But Woojin is still confused. Because honestly, who wouldn’t be? Just that morning they were fine and now Jihoon’s saying these things to him? Woojin doesn’t know how to react._

_“I don’t get it. Wha— what’s wrong? Did I do anything? Hoo— Hoonie, are you mad at something I did?” He tries to touch Jihoon’s arm, but gets outright rejected._

_“There you go again!” Jihoon tells him._

_“What?”_

_“Stop doing that!”_

_“Doing what?”_

_“Acting like we’re more than friends! Touching me like we’re more than friends! Saying things like you want to be more than friends when you don’t.” Jihoon sighs, defeatedly._

_“But what if I do... want to be more than friends?”_

__

  


+++

“Wow, I can’t believe it’s been five years since you confessed to me.” Woojin says teasingly as he approaches to hug Jihoon from behind. The older is cooking their dinner to celebrate the special occasion.

 

“I did not confess first, fyi.” He retorts, hands busy chopping the bell peppers on the counter.

 

“Okay. If you say it’s me, even though it was you who got jealous over what’s-his-name… if you say it’s me, then it’s me.” He kisses Jihoon’s cheek. The smell of Jihoon’s aftershave brushes past his nose. It’s his favorite scent. The older gives in and shares a smile.

 

This is Jihoon’s favorite kind of them, he supposes. Domesticated, in love, and home; nothing else matters but them. It’s the kind of love he’s always wanted to have.

 

The kind of love he only hoped to receive from his family. But it’s okay now, he often says to himself. It doesn’t matter that his family left him to fend for himself when the news of him dating a boy reached them, because Woojin— Woojin’s more than enough, he tells himself.

 

Woojin’s not going to leave him.  
Woojin’s going to stay.

 

“Buzz! Buzz!” The door rings as Jihoon was to broil the pork he made for dinner.

 

“I’ll get it!” He shouts to Woojin, who’s changing into comfier clothes in their bedroom. “Kay!”

 

He wipes the residue in his hands on his apron before he runs to the door. “Buzz!” 

 

“God damn it, hold your horses!” Jihoon wanted to scream through the intercom. He presses the ‘Talk’ button and says, “Who is it?”

__  
_“Park Jihoonssi? This is the Seoul Police Station. Do— do you perhaps know a Park Woojinssi?” The scene is blurry. The dialogues are slow; the movements are slow. And then in the next second, they’re sitting in their dining room and Jihoon is restless. He checks his phone, waiting for a text. He taps his fingers as the police officer speaks._  
  
_It’s inaudible. Their lips are moving, but Jihoon doesn’t hear a thing until the view starts spinning. The scene is distorted. “He— he got into a car accident—“ he hears clearly._  
  


“Hello?”

 

“Hello? Flower delivery for Park Jihoonssi. Please open the entrance door.”

 

Jihoon is brought back to reality. There’s a pain in his chest and head. He blinks hard— once, twice, but he’s suddenly dizzy. He’s having trouble breathing. There’s a lump in his throat. “Buzz!”

 

Woojin comes in right in time before Jihoon falls on the edge of the tiny coffee table beside their door. “Hey, hey.. babe.” He helps Jihoon stand up.

 

“Buzz!” 

“Buzz!”

“Buzz!”

 

Woojin places Jihoon on their couch before finally pressing the damn intercom to open the entrance gates. Fucking flower delivery boy won’t shut the fuck up, he thinks as he tries to keep himself from panicking upon seeing Jihoon breathless.

 

“Babe, what happened?” He says as he brushes the hair away from the older’s face.

 

Jihoon hugs him tight in response. Tight like he never ever wants to let go. There’s the fear of losing him creeping in on him again. His body shakes as his tears stream down his cold cheeks.

 

“Hey… hey.” Woojin utters. 

 

“Y-you got into a c-car accident. I saw it in my head! T—they asked me to confirm if it was y-your body, Woojin!” Jihoon sobs harder.

 

“Hush now. Shh. It’s okay, I’m here. I’m here. I’m— I’m fine. See? I’m not going anywhere..” Woojin repeatedly whispers in Jihoon’s ear. The latter still in a state of panic. “That was just a dream, Hoonie.. hush. I’m here..”

 

It didn’t feel like a dream.


	3. October

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!!! Did not proofread :( but I hope yall still like it! ❤️

“Did you write down the things I asked you to? The things you remember from these dreams?” 

 

“I did.” Jihoon pulls out the tiny notebook from the pocket of his sling bag. “I— I did my best to recall the things I saw.”

 

“Good.” The therapist across Jihoon says happily. 

 

As much as Jihoon wished it’d work, not thinking about his dreams didn’t help one bit. Because as soon as he closed his eyes, he’d awake in a state of uncertainty, coming from the same scenario of being in a dock or waving Woojin goodbye in their basement or talking to the faceless policemen.

 

There is one thing new though, Jihoon notes. “There’s a date.” He tells the shrink. “It used to just be the police telling me about a car accident…”, he pauses as he recalls. “And W-woojin’s body… But the other night, they mentioned a date.”

 

“Go on.” Mr. Kim commands, glasses falling in the bridge of his nose, but eyes only on Jihoon. Mr. Kim’s the psychiatrist Jihoon has been seeing for about two weeks into October now. He’s actually pretty good, Jihoon thinks. Because of the older’s help, he has been reacting to the dreams better. Although there’s still a sting in his chest, sweat in his palms and the difficulty to breathe, talking about it has helped Jihoon get a little bit used to the dreams. Plus, Mr. Kim’s voice is quite soothing to the ears. He always seems to know the right things to say, too.

 

The boy swallows before he continues, “January 26.”

 

“Does that date ring a bell?” 

 

Jihoon tries to focus. January 26. What happened on the 26th of January? A birthday? Nope. A wedding? None that he knows of. What does this date signify? He asks himself repeatedly as he tries to squeeze out whatever he can from his failing memory.

 

Ugh. He can’t think of anything. It’s just a random date, he concludes. “No.”

 

“Okay. Hmmm, well, Jihoon, I have another thing I want you to do to help us understand these dreams.” The doctor speaks. “The next time your mind takes you to the dock, I want you to listen carefully. You said there was a voice speaking to you then right?” 

 

Jihoon nods. “The next time, listen very carefully.. Okay? Maybe what he has to say will help you make something out of all these.”

 

The session with Mr. Kim ends.

  
  


+++ 

__  
__  


_The fall of 2016, Jihoon decides to head home for their semestral breaks. One, because his dorm is paid only until the second week of October, and that’s only 3 days away. So he leaves even before they ask him to leave. And two, because he’s practically too broke to live on his own even if he wanted to. And it’s not like his house is the best place to be at anyway._

 

_He’s takes the last buy available. Seated near a window looking up at the grey skies on his way home, he informs his dad of his arrival via text. He gets no reply. It’s always the same treatment from his dad, so he’s used to it. What did he expect from his self-absorbed has-been of a father anyway? The only thing his dad ever thought about was creating a legacy, in Korean table tennis that is. But Jihoon sucked at sports and he never enjoyed them even if he tried. So now he’s basically a stranger to his father; just a boy whose tuition they pay for because it gives them a sense of being traditionally “good” parents._

 

_Woojin, who’s surprisingly also in the same viccinity, gives him a call just as he was to take a nap during the trip, sighing heavily before he closes his eyes._

 

_“Text me when you get here and your address! I’ll meet you at your house. I miss you.”_

 

_“Okay, I miss you too.” Jihoon answers softly._

 

_Jihoon gets off after two stops and then walks another kilometer to his house._

_One luggage and three trash bags is the sight that greets Jihoon as he gets to their front gate. He scans his bag for his keys, panic flooding his whole body._

_He tries to unlock the red metal door._

_The key won’t work._

_His key won’t work._

_Nope. No, this is not happening, Jihoon repeats in his head._

_He tries once again, his hands now shaking as tears start blurring his vision. The wind brushes past his cheeks and all he feels is the coldness of October. His phone vibrates in his pocket and he jumps at the sudden sensation._

_“Don’t bother trying. No son of mine is a faggot.” The text message reads._

_His heart drops to his stomach. Suddenly, Jihoon’s weak, unable to stand. He drops to the ground, eyes glued to his phone._

_“No son of mine is a faggot.”  
Text message from: Dad._

_Even though he never got the affection he wanted from his parents, Jihoon had in him, still, the tiniest glimmer of hope that one day they’d straighten things out; one day everything will be okay. But he was wrong._

_One by one his tears meet the cold cement below him; he doesn’t wipe any of them, no energy to even raise his arms. He feels deflated, like there’s no life left in him._

_So they’ve found out, he realizes.  
He feels ashamed. _

_A warmth suddenly surrounds his waist. “Come on Hoonie, get up. Let’s go.”_

_It’s Woojin._

_“No.” Jihoon pulls away. Still on his knees._

_“Hoonie… Come on, Hoonie. Let’s—” Woojin tries again. His voice soft._

_“No!” Jihoon almost shouts. He finally stands up and faces Woojin. “You…” he points his finger at the boy._

_“This— this is all your fault!” He pushes Woojin’s chest forcefully with both his hands. His cheeks still wet with tears._

_The scene looks like it came straight out of a start of a fight: Jihoon angrily spewing words at Woojin as he pushes the latter while the other stays silent._

_“You.” He taps Woojin’s shoulder with his fingers._

_“You did this.”_

_“You fucking did this.” He shoves him with more ferocity. Woojin remains unmoving. He waits for the boy to calm down._

_But Jihoon doesn’t. And to be honest, he doesn’t know why he’s mad at the younger. He doesn’t know why he’s shouting at Woojin. He doesn’t know why he’s pushing away the only person left by his side._

_He doesn’t know._

_But he also doesn’t stop himself from doing so._

_“I fucking hate you!” Jihoon says angrily, but his watery eyes show hurt and vulnerability._

_Thankfully, Woojin sees this and he understands. He understands because the first time he met Jihoon’s parents, he knew they knew that what they had was more than a friendship. And he knew, but never wanted to believe, that they were capable of doing this to Jihoon._

_So he lets Jihoon hit his chest._

_He lets Jihoon curse him right to his face._

_He lets Jihoon blame him._

_“This is all your fault! This is all your fault!” Jihoon says as he bangs the younger’s chest, first with such force, but soon his energy dissipates. And he just allows himself to break down. He cries and he buries his face in Woojin’s sturdy chest. “This is all your fault.” He says in a whisper._

_The snaggletoothed boy encloses him in a strong embrace, “I’m sorry.”_

_“I’m sorry, Hoonie.” Woojin apologizes again. And Jihoon hates himself for making him do so, because this isn’t about Woojin. He knows he’s faultless, but he continues to blame him._

_“This is— this is all my fault, Hoonie. This… this is all on me..” Woojin knows it’s a lie, but if this is what it’s going to take for Jihoon to get better, then he would willingly make it his truth any way he could. “I’m sorry.”_

_They stay this way for a couple more minutes. The wind breezes past them as Jihoon clings to Woojin with tears flowing down the sides of his face. The older finally calms himself down. He feels secure under Woojin’s arms._

_“I... I didn’t mean it. Whatever I said— I didn’t mean it.” Jihoon starts off. He watches from behind as Woojin carries his luggage up the final flight of stairs._

_Woojin grunts as he pulls the luggage to the door of his apartment. “You know whatever you say won’t make me love you any less, right?” He tells Jihoon with such certainty. A smile growing in his lips._

_Jihoon thanks him with a kiss. He thinks to himself, Woojin is enough. Maybe, he doesn’t need his father’s approval;_

_Maybe all he needs is Woojin._

_The first few weeks of them living together was magic, Jihoon would say. The close proximity between the two gave them the chance to explore themselves even more, whether it’d be outside or under the sheets. Every night they’d sleep in each other’s arms, seemingly afraid to let even just an inch of space bring them apart._

_During their first month, Jihoon had found out that Woojin had worked part-time since moving to Seoul from Busan as a result of the fall of his parent’s business, which also caused them to separate ways and get an annulment, but “it’s no big deal anymore” Woojin would always say as he talks about the separation. “People grow through challenges and I guess they weren’t an exception to that.”_

_But came their third month of staying together and Jihoon feels himself grow tired. Grow tired of the little space they have to share together, tired of the endless ramen noodles for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and tired of the new lifestyle he had no choice but to accept and live. He had just started working as a bartender near the university too and he can’t help but feel pity for himself, which he knows he shouldn’t do. But switching from a good to a mediocre lifestyle just got the best of him. So at night, he finds himself wondering if this any of this is worth it._

_One night upon seeing Woojin enter the apartment with the same black paper bag filled with ramen packs, Jihoon feels himself getting irrationally irritated. And it’s not like Woojin didn’t notice this. He did, but chooses not to say a word. They eat in silence that night._

_And the nights that follow._

_Until even the silence was deafening._

_One morning Jihoon awakes an hour before he’s supposed to and finds himself walking to the fridge to get a glass of water. What greets him is Woojin, still in his boxers and pajamas, cooking what seemed like a big breakfast for two. Eggs, bacon, kimchi fried rice, sausages, and freshly squeezed orange juice. “Ah!” Woojin shrieks. “Shouldn’t you still be asleep?”_

_“What’s this?”_

_Woojin sighs in defeat. “It was… supposed to be my surprise for you… Ah, but you caught me! I wanted to cook you breakfast… It’s been exactly six months since we moved in together, Hoonie. And I know it’s not much. It’s all I could afford from my payroll, and—.”_

_Jihoon can’t help but cry. “What’s wrong?” Woojin asks. The older stares at his lover with apologetic eyes._

_How could he grow tired of this?_

_Of Woojin?_

_Of loving Woojin?_

_Of being loved by Woojin?_

_He runs to him and hugs him as tight as he could, “It’s more than enough.” He utters. “You’re more than enough.”_

_Because Woojin is more than enough._

__

  
  


+++

“Isn’t this what you wanted, though?” Woojin asks from across the dinner table. Jihoon sighs heavily. It is what he wanted (note: past tense), but they’re just three years too late.

 

“You realize my dad only texted me because he feels guilty, right?” Woojin raises his eyebrows in response. “He feels guilty to leave this world knowing he has a son that despises him.” 

 

“You do not despise him.”

 

“I kind of do.” Jihoon retorts. “Pass me the salt, please?” 

 

Woojin does as he’s asked. “But isn’t it nice though? Don’t you feel a tiny bit happy he actually is trying to fix things?” Typical Woojin, Jihoon thinks. He’s always looked at the brighter side of things, unlike the older. In this case, he isn’t exactly wrong to do so, Jihoon supposes. 

 

It is somewhat great that his dad texted him after almost four years of pretending he didn’t exist just because he didn’t become the table tennis prodigy he wanted him to be (and because he was gay). But that doesn’t necessarily erase all the pain Jihoon’s gone through when he chose to cut ties with the said boy. So Jihoon isn’t swayed by the sudden text message he got from his father, to be honest. “Can we not talk about it, please?” 

 

“We have to talk about it someday, Jihoon.”

 

“That day isn’t today, Woojin.” He argues back. “Plus, I’m tired. We had dress rehearsals today and I just want a peaceful dinner with the love of my life, okay?” Woojin sends him a grin. 

 

They cap off the night after dinner, quite different from how they’d end nights back in college, but being adults have turned them into sleep-loving human beings. It isn’t that bad.

 

“How was therapy, by the way?” Woojin says as he turns on their night light. Jihoon closes script in his hands and places it on their bedside table.

 

“Good as always.”

 

Woojin gives him a “that’s it?” look, hoping the older would divulge more information. But he knows Jihoon doesn’t want to talk about it with him. He made it pretty clear, actually, during dinner about two weeks before, saying, “I don’t want to talk you about you dying in my dreams. It just seems off, don’t you think?” 

 

Jihoon lets out a sigh. “I already told you, didn’t I? And don’t worry anymore. Mr. Kim’s been doing a good job. He’s been giving me exercises to practice. And his voice calms me.” 

 

“What about my voice?” Woojin asks a little eagerly, a hint of jealousy in his tone. “What does my voice do to you?”

 

Jihoon brushes Woojin’s cheek. They’re lying face to face now, just a few inches apart. “Your voice… your voice is my favorite sound. I’m a little obsessed with it, to be honest.” His eyes trailing the other’s face. “I love hearing it especially…”

 

“Especially when you scream my name when we fuck.” Jihoon whispers cheekily. Woojin almost chokes at the other’s unexpected answer. It’s funny how the conversation has turned, they both think. 

 

“You cheeky little naughty bunny. I love you.” Woojin says with a smile. 

 

Jihoon kisses him hard before drifting off to sleep that night.

  
  


_He looks to his left, a soju bottle in his hand. He looks up to the heavens; his view hazy as the tears of the grey skies hit his crying eyes . “Tell me!” He shouts to the void._

  
  


_“I just— just please. I love him. I loved him so much. What is life without him?” He begs, his weak knees falls to the ground._

  
  


_A voice whispers in his head. It calls him, ever so softly. “A proper goodbye.”_

  
  


_“Huh?” He looks around. No one else is in sight._

  
  


_“A second chance.” The voice is louder now. He hears it clearer._

  
  


_”Who’s there?” He shouts._

  
  


_“A proper goodbye.” The voice says softly, almost like a whisper. “A second chance.” The voice is gentle, almost soothing. “His final wish.”_

  
  


_Jihoon feels almost calm. The voice sounds reassuring, until he realizes it’s a voice he’s already heard._

  
  


_A voice he’s constantly heard—_

  


  
  


It’s Mr. Kim.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a slowburn-ish fic. It's my first time writing something that isn't a one shot so cliffhangers would probably suck each chapter HAHA but please do continue reading bc stuff would prolly start making sense as you read on.
> 
> Thanks <3


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